Field Numb3rs
by Cat 2
Summary: What if Don had never stopped playing baseball and Charlie was an FBI agent?
1. Chapter 1

The building was huge.

So far Amita had filled in ten different forms and had been sent up and down for what felt like twenty times. She tried to amuse herself by cataloguing the responses she got. They'd ranged from, "No Doctors up here, you want the morgue" to "Don't know anyone of that name, sorry" and most incredulously, "Don't know any Professor Eppes, but there's a Special Agent Eppes."

The relief of this statement must have shown in her face, because her guide put down the paper work he was filing and said, "Come on, I'll show you." He led her to the lift and up to the floor she'd been sent to originally.

"Hey Coop,"

"Carol" he said, speaking to a female FBI agent who, to all appearances ignored him and barrelled past them into the elevator, almost knocking Amita down.

"Sorry can't stop. Charlie says that the fifth victim is lying, so Colby and I are going to see her. If you need a location, he's in the war room"

Amita blinked. Behind the woman was a strawberry blond, who smiled without moving his lips.

"Flashback to fifth grade Algebra." He said, with a grin.

"You guys got a break?" the agent who was her guide asked, with a slight roll of his eyes. Amita was still unsure of the dynamics of the people around her, or what was even going on. She decided to wing it.

The blond shrugged. "Either that or Caroline becomes the fifth agent to quit our team in the month."

"Colby!" A yell came from the elevator. The blond grinned; he seemed to have a happy nature.

"Gotta go."

"I'd heard Dr. Eppes has a brilliant reputation in the field." Amita said, cautiously, not sure why this brilliant man was in _here_, or if the people who worked with him even _knew_ of his true intellectual value. Coop shrugged. "Yeah, but… it's been a rough couple of months for the team."

They were approaching, what Amita supposed, was the "war room".

"All I'm saying is that is Caroline's been here for like, four days, and that's the third time she's run out of here. Just…try speaking English around her for a bit."

"I am speaking English."

"No, Charlie, you're speaking Mathlish." A patient sigh and a voice that sounded experienced in this conversation. "Colby and me, we're used to that, but Carol…" She could see the black man shaking his head. "She's the last of the students Coop'll recommend for us, the last one he thinks could cope. The FBI have given up months ago and Coop's not far behind. Just…try not to scare another one off."

He looked up. "Hey Coop."

"Sinclair." The black man stepped aside, and Coop entered, with Amita close behind him. "What's this I hear about you scaring off my agents?"

Curls, longer than the FBI norm, shook frustrated. "If they can't cope, they shouldn't be here, wasn't that what you told me?"

Coop snorted. "Yeah, but I'd hardly call Nicki and Liz unable to cope." Both seemed to have forgotten Amita's presence, as the man made his way over to the dry ease board.

"Megan isn't coming back Charlie. The sooner you get that big brain of yours 'round that, the better." He leant up against the desk. "Even if she comes out of what ever the fuck she's in, she'll need to jump through a million hoops before they let her near the field again." He sighed. "You need a fourth agent, Eppes, Carol's a great one. Sooner you start working with her, the better."

Amita coughed slightly. "Dr. Charles Eppes?"

Both men blinked and looked at her. "Who's this?" Coop shrugged.

"Said she was looking for a Dr. Eppes. You're the only Eppes I know, unless your brother's joined the bureau when I wasn't looking." The lips beneath the curls pursed slightly. Amita decided she'd better introduce herself.

"I'm Amita Ramanujan," seeing no recognition in his face, she added, almost desperately. "We spoke on the phone; I arranged to see you at three."

"Oh, right. Cal Sci." Coop rolled an eyebrow and muttered that he'd be off then.

"Would you like…" Charlie Eppes was shorter than she expected, with curly hair longer than FBI norms. He was also (and she felt guilty for even thinking this, with the ring on her finger still so fresh) kind of cute, as she sat down.

"You said you wanted to talk to me about my paper on the Eppes convergence?"

"On all them really." Amita admitted. "What I really wanted to talk to you about was why you stopped?"

The eyebrows drew together and she hastened to clarify. "You have a genius level IQ, you graduated Princeton at 13, but…" she indicated the office outside of the glass windows "you're working in a place where most people don't even know you have a doctorate."

Charlie lent back against the desk, wondering how he could explain. How he could quantify the adrenaline rush, the rightness of that first case when Billy Cooper had wandered into the offices looking for a method of reducing the area of forest he was looking for; the look on the hostage's face when you got them back safe.

The academy, something being a challenge for a first time, having to work as hard as everyone else, harder than some, to make the grade to stay in. the expressions on David's face, On Colby's and others agents when they got what he was talking about, the adrenaline rush of a case, days of eating, drinking, living your case, the maths linked with it, and the incredible calm that descended when you finished and the comrade of when it didn't turn out how you expected. The undeniable sensation of watching the evidence turn into numbers and back again, the satisfaction of getting a collar ahead of another agency, another agent.

He knew plenty of academics who got the same feelings from academia, and he would not deny he had felt the same at some point. But that had changed when Billy cooper had wandered into his office and mistaken him for Professor Fleinhardt.

He opened his mouth, still trying to figure out how to put about a quarter of that into words, when David knocked on the door. "Sorry." He said, glancing at Amita. "Just got a call. We're to hand over the Ville case to Lorenzo's team."

His face was grim. "We've got another one."

Charlie smiled, getting to his feet. Looked like he'd just found a way to explain what he felt. If she worked at Cal Sci, her clearance might even be higher than his.

"Well then," he said, holding out his hand. "Guess I'll get a chance to show you what I see here."

-----

"Hey Granger." Caroline Preston yelled kneeling near the body. "Come and have a look at this." Colby knelt down beside her.

The corpse was that of a man in his early thirties, lying on his stomach, head twisted around as though asleep, with dark brown hair that remind him of Don's. Thinking of Don, he stole a quick glance at his mobile, before forcing his attention back to Caroline.

"The local said he thought they looked like torture marks, and it looks like they were there before death." Caroline said, her hands indicating some marks around the shoulders. "But they don't look like any torture I've ever seen."

Before Joining the FBI, Caroline Preston had worked her way up through the ranks as an undercover cop in Baltimore PD, with 5 years in Vice and another 5 in homicide. Her previous position in the bureau had been assistant liaise to the Mounties.

This background belied her appearance. Caroline was about average height for female agents, but skinny, with a boyish figure. Her bobbed, honey coloured hair, framed a face, that looked about 16, at a maximum.

Colby frequently remarked she didn't look old enough to have finished basic training. Caroline's reply was that Colby still got ID'd in every bar they visited, even when he was wearing his gun.

Frowning, he examined the shoulders.

"Definitely look like someone wants them to hurt." He muttered. "The skin's broken."

"Yeah." Caroline agreed. "But I can come up with about twenty different places, on the back alone that would inflict more pain for less effort." She frowned slightly. "And what's with all the silk?"

Colby, shrugged. Who could tell why the bastards they chased did anything? But he had to agree the bindings were weird. The knot looked like it would be easy enough to slip out of and they weren't that tight. Slowly, he moved closer, trying to get a better look at the bindings without disturbing the body. Caroline had moved so that she was further down the back, on level with the hands of the corpse. Suddenly she frowned.

"Hey can I get a SCO over here?"

Colby had to smile at the way Charlie all but ran over to join them, escaping the Cops talk about Don's baseball career.

There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Charlie was proud of his big brother, always quoting his stats, always turning on the radio when Don's team were playing, attending every game he could, but since their father's heart attack the year previously, a coolness had sprung up between the two, and neither was sure they could get rid of it. "What've you got?"

Caroline raised an eyebrow at the presence of the woman she'd nearly run over next to Coop, and Colby had to admit he was surprised. Other teams had hired consultants, or similar, but given the teams' problems in getting FBI agents to stick around, consultants were usually out.

Caroline had recovered quickly. "Stamp on his hand. Rain's damaged it, but if we can get an ID of the club…" she shrugged. "Might give us a better idea of where he was last night."

Amita had moved to look at the corpse, trying to control the feelings of nausea. Then she saw the face.

"I know that guy…"

"I should bloody well think so, else why would we be called to a suburban murder?" Caroline demanded, earning her looks of confusion from David and Colby. "The victim is Jack Escape, a.k.a. Wyoming Jack."

"The guy who's running for Congress." David offered, catching on.

"The guy who's running for Congress with a fairly strong anti homosexual platform, who we found in an area noted as a gay hotspot." Caroline said, grimacing and pulling off her gloves. "The press is going to _love_ that."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Carol."

"Coop." He watched as the girl put the bottle down, screwing the cap back on. "Thought you left."

Coop shrugged, looking at the label on her bottle. "Thought you'd have gone home?"

Caroline shrugged. "It's my life." She took a small sip. "What you doing here? Eppes not got the guts to tell me to go?"

At Coop's expression, she snorted. "I'm not an idiot Coop; I know you suggested me to Eppes, that he didn't really want me."

"Charlie doesn't want anyone," Coop replied. "How much do you know about the girl you replaced, Megan Reeves?"

He watched as Caroline swirled the glass around. "I didn't know that was her name. All I've ever heard her referred to as is Megan." She looked at him, her green eyes meeting his own. "That's all I know, except that she was a profiler and she left the team under mysterious circumstances."

Coop nodded. "She was a profiler. Probably one of the best the FBI had." He sighed. "Certainly good enough that she caught the government's eye."

He didn't need to expand. They both knew what that meant.

"I don't know specifics. Just know she couldn't cope." He took a swig of the beer he'd ordered when he entered. "Major dissociative state. That's the fancy term for it. What it means is lights are on, but nobody's home."

"I know what it means," Caroline interrupted. "What I don't get is what that has to do with me. I'm not a profiler."

Billy stared into his beer for a moment. "Can I ask you something? Do you want to stay?"

She gave him a look as though he'd suddenly started speaking Chinese. "Of Course I do. Why do you think I acted like a jerk at the crime scene? It's..." she turned her attention back to her drink, shaking her head. "It's the first time I've felt alive, felt like a cop, felt like I was valued since Baltimore."

Billy nodded. "So show him that. He doesn't want rid of you, but he thinks you're just riding this till you get something better."

Caroline's eyes bored into him. "He's not trying to replace me?"

"Swear to god, the chick with him comes from Cal Sci. Having failed to convince the FBI of the wonders of math, I think he's trying to convince mathematicians of the wonders of the FBI."

Caroline laughed and then smiled an unexpected smile, like the first crocus of spring.

"Think I can get us a lead on that club," she said. "See you."

She paused by the door. "Coop?"

"Huh?"

"How did you get so…wise?"

He shrugged. "On the road, you've got a lot of time to think."

****

Charlie made his way into the office and over to the desks. He smiled to himself, as he noticed Caroline at hers, her head resting on her arms and her eyes closed.

Slowly, he undid the lid of the coffee. The effect was funny. Caroline sat bolt upright as though someone had set off a firecracker in her ear. There was a post-it note attached to her cheek.

"Tell me you weren't here all night." Charlie said, grinning as he handed over the coffee.

"I wasn't here all night." Caroline replied, draining what looked like half the cup at once.

"Really?"

Caroline shrugged. "You asked me to tell you, you didn't say it had to be true." She smiled over the edge of her cup. "And technically it is. I got dinner at a bar, then I drove to the labs before coming back here." She shook herself. "And I took Coop to the airport this morning."

"He's gone?" Charlie asked, feeling sad in spite of him. Caroline smiled.

"I said I took him there. Little what's it grabbed his car and followed me back here. Not that I'm complaining mind you," she took another sip. "I was glad of an extra pair of eyes. See," she sprung around and pulled up a screen on her computer. "I remembered back in Baltimore, this tech, who'd nagged all of us in Vice for pictures of our hands after we'd been to the clubs."

"Thought you were in homicide," Charlie questioned as he leaned over to look at the screen.

"Started on patrol, moved up to Vice, then into homicide. Quickly showed I was good at undercover stuff." Caroline said. "Anyway, at first me and several of the girls were a bit freaked out, thinking this was some kind of sex thing. Turns out he and a couple of buddies from college were trying to make a website of all the hand stamps in the country. Seems it started on a road trip and kinda grew from that."

A purple webpage popped into view. Charlie read the title, "_A Great Night Out_."

"The clubs pretty soon cottoned on to it as a way to advertise, and it's quite popular out here." She shook her head. "Anyway I knew there was a section on LA, so I started looking through, seeing if I could find our stamp." She pointed to the crime scene picture she'd pinned up on the board above her desk.

Charlie squinted at it. It looked even less clear up there, and he had to admire Caroline's determination.

"I got six clubs that are possibles- if we assume he stayed in the city. If he stayed in the state, it's nearly 20."

Straightening up, he could see Billy standing by the break room, coffee cup in hand. "Don't screw this up, kid," his eyes seemed to say.

He nodded. "Alright. Let's see that list."

***

"Two of the bars don't open on a Thursday night, so it's unlikely Mr. Escape was there."

Caroline moved around the war room, pinning up the snap shot of the hand, and the clubs information.

"A third was raided by Vice last week, and closed down so…"

"Again not likely," Charlie supplied. "The fourth is a pop up bar - different venue each week, no way to track it."

"Sounds hopeful."

"What we thought." Caroline agreed, with a quick glance at Coop. "Except at two am this morning, when I finally managed to speak to someone, he was highly offended we even suggested he might have let Wyoming Jack in. As he points out, the place is small, few people know about it, so it's easy to recall faces."

"So that leaves two."

Caroline nodded. "_The Bent Whisker_ and," she finished pinning up the picture and turned to face the group. "_X in the City_."

Colby nodded, but David's face looked less certain the longer he looked at the photo of the club. Caroline remembered hearing somewhere that he, like her, had worked in Vice, before joining the FBI. If he had, the warning signs where there. He knew what sort of place it was and the trouble they were facing.

****

"Carol."

"Jay." She slipped her arms around the young man with dark hair and an earring in his right ear and grinned at him. "You find here O.K.?"

Jay rolled his eyes. "Yet to be a bar made that I can't find my way to blindfolded, sweets. What we waiting for?"

"My partner. He should be here any moment…shit!" she watches the Bureau car pulled up and Colby Granger clambered out. "Thought Sinclair was supposed to be my back up on this."

Colby shrugged. "Said he didn't feel so good."

"Before or after he told you about this mission."

"It's asking questions of patrons in a bar. What's the big deal?"

Caroline's mouth was open, to inform Colby of the exact nature of the bar, when Jason gave a small cough beside her.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the position Jason had adopted- leaning against the wall, arms folded. It was the same position he'd adopted when she and McCoy had first picked him up for solicitation, a position that always meant trouble.

"Jason, Colby Granger, my partner for the night. FBI" _So you'd better behave,_ was the underlying warning. "Colby, Jason Todd, one of my snitches from Baltimore, these days working for LAPD."

She watched as Jason shook Colby's hand, giving his most disarming smile, the one Caroline had learnt the hard way meant he was going to kiss you, slip out of the cuffs, kick you and run off. These days, or so rumour had it, it was a warning that Jason was planning to drag the unsuspecting guy into the nearest private space and have sex with him. She hoped that wasn't true.

Colby's orientation was pretty oblivious, but inflicting Jason on him would scare him further into the closet than he already was and that wasn't fair. Thankfully, Colby seemed oblivious as they shook hands.

"O.K." Jason said, apparently becoming aware of the looks Caroline was shooting him. "You guys ready, everything stashed."

Colby nodded. Caroline shot a nervous glance at Colby, but apparently decided that there wasn't really much she could about the situation, and nodded.

Jason grinned, blue eyes promising mischief. "Then let's go find your Dom."


End file.
